Shallow Night had not yet arrived. Thick darkness wrapped everything, and trees crowded both sides of the road. Their branches stretched wildly in the howling cold wind, like swaths of ghostly shadows swaying.
In the depths of the night, Qin Ming swung his saber without hesitation. It was as though lightning had torn through the dark, instantly shattering the oppressive stillness.
The Black Mist lunged at them just then, heavy with malice, seeking to cover them both and swallow them in a vast shadow.
With neither stars nor moon, no one else could have spotted it. Qin Ming saw it clearly and felt its icy chill. As it drew near, a cold that pierced to the bone swept over him.
With a soft pfft, like a hot knife through butter, the short saber coated in mineral paint sank into the Black Mist, setting its frigid aura seething.
"What's going on?!" Old Man Liu cried. His reactions were astonishingly quick: with a swish, he drew his Thick-backed Greatsword and struck at the empty air alongside Qin Ming.
Yet when his blade entered the Black Mist, it seemed to pass through nothing. It struck no target at all.
"Get back!" Qin Ming shouted.
At the same time, he heard a piercing scream. The Black Mist rapidly condensed into a human shape.
Old Man Liu took the warning to heart. He withdrew his blade and bolted.
He could neither see nor hear anything unusual and had no idea what had happened. But instinct told him something was terribly wrong.
A man appeared within the Black Mist. His outline was blurred, but Qin Ming's keen eyes made out a young man whose face was contorted in agony. Cold eyes turned toward Qin Ming.
Qin Ming's short saber had cut into his body. To his